


Touchbacks and Timeouts

by danceswithgary



Series: Playing Along [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not just a football game.  Sequel to <i>Tripping Over Shadows</i>, but may be read standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touchbacks and Timeouts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



The distinct chill in the air when John walks through Rodney's door at 1845 does nothing to dispel his niggling little suspicion that Rodney is up to something. He shivers and scrubs his bare forearms a little to warm up as he wonders if the cold, Rodney skipping lunch, and the _three_ one-sentence emails in the last two hours reminding John he's due at Rodney's quarters at _exactly_ 1900 and are all somehow related…and whether that's good or bad.

Over the years, John's learned not to jump to the obvious conclusion when it comes to Rodney and to always show up early.

There's no sign of Rodney, but a small clatter and muttering in the bathroom hints at his location, so John shrugs and heads for the couch to wait for him to emerge. Although they'd shared a few showers since Rodney had decided it was time to move beyond kissing, they haven't reached the stay overnight and chatting while you pee stages yet, so John resorts to looking around the room instead of calling out to let Rodney know he'd arrived.

The woodsy scent wafting through the room reminds John of autumn hikes with dried leaves crunching underfoot and is obviously from the thick green candle on Rodney's desk. John has a hard time pinning down other tantalizing aromas, until he finally recognizes them as the Pegasus versions of grilled hotdogs and roasted peanuts. He smiles because Rodney has obviously gone to some trouble for their dinner, since John knows all too well that the entrees in the mess are limited to stew and meatloaf on Tuesday nights.

Resisting the temptation to peek in the combination Ancient warmer/cooler that Rodney had appropriated on their return to Pegasus, along with one of the large transparent display screens, John kicks his boots off and settles back on the couch, propping his feet up on the small table in front of him. He crosses his arms, shivers again, and wonders if he should go back to his quarters for his jacket, but then decides to ask for a little more heat with a mental nudge instead.

His inability to override environmental controls that Rodney seems to have locked down is a little disconcerting, and John frowns and calls out, "Hey, Rodney! What's up with the heat in here? Did you decide we're watching a hockey game tonight?"

Another clatter and a squawk and Rodney bustles out from the bathroom, his hands full of some sort of gray cloth that flaps when he flings his arms wide. "Why do you find it so hard to be on time? I said 1900 - not fifteen minutes early. You'd think the military would have…." Rodney stops and presses his lips tight as he takes a deep breath and then he starts again with the beginning of a smile, his voice lower and calmer. "Hi. Thanks for coming."

John gets up, walks around the table to meet Rodney, and drops a quick kiss on his favorite side of Rodney's mouth, the one that always has to work a little harder to smile. "Hi. Sorry?" He presses in closer to take advantage of Rodney's warmth then pulls back to check what Rodney's wearing. The red lettering across the front is a little stiff and shiny and the gray cotton material smells new. John takes a moment to be glad Rodney opted for the gray sweatshirt, rather than the bright red version, before asking, "What's all this? You didn't go to Stanford."

"No, but _you_ did." Rodney rolls his eyes, uncrumples a matching hooded sweatshirt, and holds it up. "Here, I just finished clipping the tags out so they wouldn't scratch our necks. Arms up." He shakes the sweatshirt with an impatient huff, and John gives in and lets Rodney pull it over his head like he's a little kid or, when he thinks about it, maybe it's more like he's someone Rodney wants to take care of, which kind of feels…nice.

John has an idea what might be going on, but he waits until his head emerges from the soft folds of cloth to ask with a grin, "So not hockey then?"

Rodney doesn't answer right away, although he does nothing to suppress a gleeful grin that reminds John of when they played with the Ancient shield. He's waiting for Rodney to start sing-songing, "Invulnerable," but instead he's treated to him smoothing down John's new sweatshirt and brushing John's hair back into its usual mess. With a final satisfied pat, Rodney turns away and walks to the far side of his bed without a word.

"Come on, buddy. How long are you going to keep me in suspense?" John protests, as he watches Rodney bend over to pick up a bright red something and then walk around John to drape what turns out to be a stadium blanket over the back of the couch.

After scrubbing his hands together in obvious satisfaction, Rodney tugs John forward and then pushes him down to take a seat while Rodney paces a bit and fusses with the laptop connected to the screen. "Although I've set the temperature in here to the average during late November in San Francisco, I'm afraid that I can't completely reproduce the conditions in the stadium without installing uncomfortable bleachers. We'll just have to suffer on the couch."

"Conditions? Bleachers?" On Rodney's next pass by, John reaches up and yanks so that Rodney ends up next to him, pressed close and warm against his side. Twisting a bit and gently turning Rodney's face toward him with a firm hand, John convinces him to stop babbling with a soft lingering kiss. Pulling back reluctantly, John smiles and his voice rasps a little when he teases, "All this to watch a game with me? You hate watching football, except for the cheerleaders."

Rodney slowly nods, and John can't help feeling a little smug at how long it takes Rodney's dazed eyes to focus and his words to return. "Football. Yes. Um…I mean, no." With a frown, Rodney places a hand on John's chest and pushes him back. "If you hadn't distracted me, I would have explained it's not just any old football game. It's this year's _Big Game_."

"You mean…you…you have a copy of the game between Stanford and Cal?" John is a little embarrassed by his stammering, but he figures it's justified by his complete shock, which then leads to a crushing hug as he mutters into the side of Rodney's neck, "I can't believe…how? Why?"

Rodney's hands feel good rubbing John's back as he explains. "I now owe Jeannie a few favors is the how and as to the why...." Lifting his head and pulling back at Rodney's sudden pause, John puzzles over the hint of worry in Rodney's eyes, but doesn't get a chance to ask before Rodney continues. "I was advised that asking your…." Rodney waves his hand between them as he searches for a word. "…your, uh…."

When John realizes they haven't really discussed how to refer to each other yet, he makes a quick decision before Rodney get lost on a tangent. "Boyfriend? If I was with a woman, it would be 'girlfriend,' so I'm okay with that. You?"

A brilliant smile is John's reward for the save. "Boyfriend. Yes." Rodney smoothes his hand across the lettering on John's chest, which seems to help him focus on where he'd gotten hung up in his explanation. "Asking your boyfriend what he'd like for a gift isn't as thoughtful as trying to figure it out yourself by paying attention to their likes and dislikes. So, that's what I did. Figured it out, that is." The smile drooped a bit as Rodney murmured almost under his breath. "I hope."

"Hey, I've always said I love college football, so you did." John leans in to brush another kiss across Rodney's lips. Settling back against the couch, he smiles and sighs happily. "Even if it's just the highlights of the game, that'll be great. I haven't actually made it to one in over twenty years."

Rodney jerks a little at that, and John tips his head and raises an eyebrow in his direction. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Football wasn't exactly my first choice," Rodney admits with a little wince. "I was considering a radio-controlled helicopter or a new flight simulator, but then I was looking for a pen in your desk and I happened to find two tickets to a Stanford football game that you missed because we left Earth a week before they played."

"Just happened to find?" Although John had almost forgotten he had the tickets, he knows they were inside an envelope. He narrows his eyes in mock irritation and growls, "You went snooping around in my desk, McKay?"

As John had expected, Rodney's chin tilts up and he crosses his arms as he defends himself. "I prefer to call it…creative fact-finding, Sheppard," then his head dips a little as he asks, "I'm assuming you'd planned to take someone to the game with you?"

Reaching out, John squeezes Rodney's shoulder and smiles his forgiveness of Rodney's good-willed trespass. "Yeah, I bought seats on the West Shady side to help me convince my best friend to risk spending an entire afternoon outside." John enjoys the faint blush that colors Rodney's cheeks for a moment or two then he decides to lighten the mood by asking, "So where are the hotdogs and beer? I'm ready to eat while I watch Cal go down."

"Oh, right. I'll just get…." Rodney jumps to his feet and heads for the unit holding the food and drinks, but stops halfway to ask in a worried voice, "Wait, you don't know who won yet? Jeannie sent the sweatshirts and blanket in the last Daedalus shipment, but I just got the video in today's databurst and I ran a scan to check for scores and no one…."

John chuckles and quickly assures him, "No, to be honest, I haven't been keeping track lately, so this will be a complete surprise. It's just that the wins have been running in seven game streaks for a while and it's Stanford's turn to take the Axe home."

"The famous Axe." Rodney shakes his head as he pulls out the refreshments and carries them back to set on the table. "You have to admit that the most of the rituals and celebrations we've gone through in the Pegasus galaxy are pretty tame compared to some of the college football shenanigans I read about."

" _Shenanigans_?" John can't hold back the laugh that always makes Rodney shake his head in disbelief, as he teases Rodney between gasping breaths, "Yeah…those football fans…sure can be a…rowdy bunch of…hooligans."

Rodney's mouth keeps twitching as he glares down at John and he finally gives in and joins in the laughter. "All right, fine. I'll admit I was never much of a sports fan when I was in school. Even watching seemed like a waste of time, let alone attending bonfires and pep rallies." He hands a foil-wrapped package to John and points to the tray of condiments that he obviously 'borrowed' from the mess. "Catsup, mustard, and relish."

"Umm, love these." John unwraps the thick Belkan sausage cradled in warm Athosian flatbread and takes a deep sniff of its spicy aroma before adding mustard. "They taste better than the 'real' thing." He takes a bite and closes his eyes in bliss for a moment, then opens them again in order to grab the remote and start the game. "I didn't manage to catch a lot of games myself. I doubled up on a bunch of courses and the ROTC program was on a different campus so it usually ate up the rest of my free time."

Taking his seat next to John, Rodney ignores the pre-game chatter from the sportscasters to apply himself to the delicate art of arranging relish, catsup, and mustard along his own sausage. His carefully crafted repast almost takes a dive when he reaches out for a beer, but John comes to his rescue and opens the can for Rodney before grabbing one himself. Rodney takes a big bite and almost finishes chewing before he asks, "Doubled up?"

John holds up a finger until he swallows then nods. "Finished three semesters early." He flashes a sheepish grin and admits, "Couldn't wait to get in the air."

On the screen, the game is starting, and John leans forward a bit to watch the kickoff, nodding in satisfaction when Stanford advances to the thirty-five-yard line for a first down. "Yes!" They watch in a companionable silence as they finish their sausages and then settle back with a second beer under the stadium blanket, pressed together snugly at shoulder, hip and thigh. John keeps sneaking peeks at Rodney's face, wondering about Rodney's sudden interest in football, but then Cal fumbles the kickoff in their end zone.

"That's a touchback, not a safety! The kickoff or punt entered the end zone and became dead behind the goal line without being advanced beyond the goal line by a player of the receiving team."

John blinks, startled by Rodney calling out the correct ruling before the referee on the screen. He pauses the game to ask how Rodney knew, and catches him grinning at his own acumen. "How did you…?" Rodney shrugs away the question, but John's too curious to let it go and he pokes Rodney in the ribs. "Have you secretly been laughing at me whenever I tried to explain the plays before?"

"No!" Rodney protests as he captures John's roving hand and clasps it inside his in self-defense. "I memorized some obscure medical data I was never going to need again just to impress Jennifer. Learning enough about football to be able to follow you whenever you're talking about a game is bound to be a much better return on investment for the rest of my life."

John's chest suddenly feels weird when Rodney says 'the rest of my life' so matter-of-factly, almost like someone was squeezing his heart. He wants to say the words back, but they're stuck in his throat, and then he's crawling on top of Rodney under the blanket and tasting beer and sausage and mustard along with a few laughs as Rodney grabs hold so that John doesn't fall off the couch because he's shaking so hard.

After a minute or two, Rodney slows the kisses down, softens them to little nuzzles and pecks, and asks, "Hey, not that I'm complaining or anything crazy like that, because I'm really, really okay with whatever you want to do, but didn't you want to watch your game?"

John doesn't have to think too hard about his answer. He's always loved Ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than two hundred miles per hour, but Rodney's in whole different league of his own - and going for the championship. Knowing he's grinning like a fool, John shakes his head and starts sliding down to the floor between Rodney's legs, disappearing under the blanket as he says, "Sure, but I'm calling a timeout."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for McShep Match Team Work captain, kisahawklin, as the winner of our little side bet. She requested: _Oooh... how do you feel about sports? Because, football season, man..._ I also incorporated the [McSheplets Challenge #82: Surprise](http://community.livejournal.com/mcsheplets/223555.html). I must admit I ended up being almost as intrigued as Rodney by the history of [The Big Game](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Game_%28American_football%29) and [touchback rules](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Touchback), although I still won't be watching football with Gary.


End file.
